Stargate: General O'Neill's Campout
by Diane J M Johnson
Summary: Stressed out & fed up with all the drama aboard "Destiny,"  O'Neill decides to go on a little off-world camping trip & take a few of the guys with him: Mitchell, Teal'c, Jackson, Sheppard, McKay & Ronon. But things don't turn out to be all that relaxing.


GENERAL O'NEILL'S CAMPOUT

It was late on a Friday night and General O'Neill was tired. It'd been a long week: so many problems and so much drama aboard _Destiny . . ._ If he had to listen to all the crap going on between Colonel Young and Dr. Rush _one more time_ he thought he'd go out of his mind. "I need some time off," he said to himself. But he didn't want to take that time off alone. He leaned forward in his desk chair, checked the list of contacts in his cell phone and started making a few calls.

Bright and early the next morning . . .

"You're kidding, right?" Rodney McKay asked John Sheppard as he, the colonel and Ronon Dex made their way to the conference room at the SGC. "General O'Neill wants us to go on 'a little off-world excursion' with him? Somehow I find that hard to believe. The man doesn't even _like_ me."

"I don't think it's so much that he doesn't _like _you, Rodney, as it is that he finds you exasperatingly . . . annoying. But then again, who doesn't?" Sheppard said with a shrug. He paused momentarily and then said, "Here we are. Let's go on in, shall we?" He opened the door and ushered Dr. McKay into the room ahead of him. Ronon then did the same for Sheppard, who gave him a grateful but wan smile.

Upon entering the conference room, the trio was surprised to find three other men—besides General O'Neill—already seated around the table. "Hi, guys," said Sheppard. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Sheppard, McKay, Ronon," said Colonel Cameron Mitchell, nodding his head at the three newcomers as they entered the room. He was seated at General O'Neill's right hand; the general, of course, was standing at the head of the long table. Next to Mitchell sat Dr. Daniel Jackson, looking a bit scruffy, as was his wont in recent months. On the other side of Jackson was Teal'c. To John Sheppard he looked pretty much the same as he had when he was on Atlantis, trying to prepare Ronon for his interview with the IOA. All four men—including General O'Neill—were dressed in civilian clothes.

Looking at the Atlantis veterans, General O'Neill said, "Take a seat, gentlemen, and let's get this meeting started." Not surprisingly, each of the men from Atlantis sat across from their SG-1 counterparts: Sheppard across from Mitchell; McKay across from Jackson; Ronon across from Teal'c.

"So, General," spoke up Colonel Sheppard, "you've invited _all of us_ to go on this little off-world excursion with you?"

"Yes, I have," replied the general. "And for the duration—once we leave the SGC and set foot on alien soil—all ranks and titles are nonexistent. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," both of the colonels responded.

"Whatever you say, Jack," replied Daniel Jackson.

"Oh, okay," said Rodney.

"Don't use 'em much anyway," said Ronon.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow—at Ronon.

"General . . . sir," spoke up Colonel Mitchell, "if we're not allowed to use rank, what are Colonel Sheppard and I supposed to call _you_? I don't think either one of us knows you well enough—or would feel entirely comfortable—calling you . . . 'Jack.' I had a hard enough time just relaxing in your cabin when I was alone there with General Landry. If he'd asked me to call him 'Hank,' I don't know what I would've done. Can't we at least call you . . . 'sir'?"

Jack O'Neill sighed. "I suppose a certain amount of protocol has to be observed. If we got _too_ familiar, discipline might break down entirely; and then where would we be? All right; you can call me 'sir'—_but only when absolutely necessary_. Capiche?"

"Yes, sir," Mitchell replied.

"Gotcha," said Sheppard with a crooked smile and a slight tip of his head.

"So, where, exactly, are we going?" queried McKay.

"Yeah, I've been wondering the same thing myself—as I'm sure everyone else has," said Daniel.

"A nice, quiet little planet designated as P3Y 267. Lots of foliage and clean water; no monsters; no mean, nasty aliens. The perfect place for a campout/soiree."

"_Campout_? Oh, no, no, no, no, no!" said Rodney, shaking his head vehemently. "I have allergies and . . . and . . . and I hate _bugs_. There are always bugs on campouts. I like beds, and baths, and tables and plates and silverware . . . and . . . and . . . and _toilets_!"

"If that's the way you feel," said O'Neill, "you can go with Major Lorn, Colonel Carter and Teyla to PX5 452. It seems something . . . _happened_ to the Chak-tuk a while back. We're not sure what, but they sent a message to the SGC, asking to open diplomatic channels for possible trade negotiations. . . ."

"The Chak-tuk?" said Rodney. "Never heard of 'em."

"Consider yourself lucky, McKay," said Col. Mitchell. "They are _not_ nice people. We met them back in September of '08—a couple of weeks before Didi moved in down the hall from me. They rendered us unconscious the moment we stepped through the 'gate. By the time we came to, several hours had passed and our heads were splitting."

Rodney looked at Daniel and Teal'c for confirmation. Teal'c nodded his head while Daniel said, "I wouldn't go back there if they gave me a year's pay for one hour's work. They were about the ugliest, most arrogant anddisagreeable . . . _creatures_ we've ever encountered—and that's saying a lot."

Jack raised his eyebrows expectantly at Rodney and asked, "Well? What's it gonna be, McKay?"

Rodney lowered his shoulders and rolled his head with dejected resignation. "If those are my only two choices, then . . . I guess I'll go on the . . . campout."

"Somehow I knew you would," the general said with the faintest trace of a smile.

"What I don't understand is, _why me_?"

"Oh, I thought maybe you'd be fun to have around . . . in case things get boring."

"No, really; I'm not that much fun."

"Sure you are, Rodney!" spoke up Col. Sheppard. "You're an absolute laugh riot . . . especially when you're not _trying_ to be." A smile appeared and disappeared in less than a second. Ronon sniggered.

"Great! Once again Rodney McKay gets to be the butt of everyone's jokes," he complained.

"Hey, no negativism!" said Jack. "No one is going to be the butt of anyone's jokes . . . _is that understood_?" He looked around the table, glaring determinedly at the other five men; they all responded—in various ways—in the affirmative.

"All right, then. Grab some overnight gear and let's get going," Jack commanded. Then, pausing as an additional thought occurred to him, he said, "Sheppard, Mitchell . . . grab one three-man tent and a couple of two-man tents. I'll try to get us some decent food. The rest of you pick up some sleeping bags and blankets—enough for all seven of us. Since we don't know what the nights are like on this planet, we should be prepared for the worst."

Forty-five minutes later, all seven men were standing at the foot of the platform in the Gate Room and Walter was dialing up P3Y 267. Both Rodney and Daniel had a supply of antihistamines and pocket packs of tissues in their rucksacks—and McKay had a holster with a sidearm strapped around his waist.

"A gun, McKay?" said the general, looking at the scientist with a mixture of mild incredulity and minor annoyance. "Didn't you hear me say that this planet has no wildlife—of any kind?"

"Yes, of course I heard. But, you guys went there during the _day_ didn't you? What if . . . what if it has some really nasty _nocturnal_ creatures; then what?" Rodney pursed his lips in a thin smile and patted the sidearm. "I'd just like to be prepared . . . you know . . . just in case."

"The same thought crossed my mind," Sheppard admitted. "But I opted for something quieter." He pointed at a rather large hunting knife in a sheath that hung from his belt and shrugged. "Even if there aren't any creatures of any kind on the planet, a good knife could still come in handy."

Col. Mitchell pulled a similar weapon from a sheath that was attached to _his_ belt. "How about two?" he asked somewhat sheepishly.

McKay almost smiled as he said, "Looks like I'm not the only one who's feeling a tad insecure."

After surveying the rest of the group, O'Neill sighed and rolled his eyes. "T," he said, addressing Teal'c, "what's with the zat?"

"For starting a fire, O'Neill," the Jaffa said matter-of-factly. Jack had a feeling that McKay was right and that his old comrade was as concerned about the possibility of nocturnal life forms as were the others but chose not to say so.

Ronon had his personal weapon holstered and strapped to his waist. Since coming to Earth, that "gun" had been the object of envy of many people at the SGC.

"And you, Daniel? Are you packing, too?"

"Actually, Jack, no, I'm not." He looked at the others with a furrowed brow. "Do you think I should?"

"Do not bother, Daniel Jackson," said Teal'c. "I have an extra zat in my pack. I would be glad to loan it to you in the event of danger."

"Thanks, Teal'c," Daniel replied with a slight smile of gratitude.

"Then I guess that means that if there _are_ nasty nocturnal life forms on the planet, I'm going to have to depend on _the six of you_ to protect me," said O'Neill with distaste.

"Not necessarily," said McKay a bit sheepishly. "I stuck a zat in my pack, too. I just feel more comfortable using a handgun."

"Then why—" the general began.

McKay shrugged. "In case there's something nasty on the planet that's more vulnerable to an energy weapon than it is to a bullet." He swallowed hard and then said, "I like to cover all my bases."

"So, we have three zats, two knives, one pistol and Ronon's personal weapon," O'Neill enumerated. "Sounds like overkill to me, but . . . who am I to deprive you gentlemen of your need to feel secure?" He sighed and looked at the blue puddle. It had been there for some time. "Let's go, fellas," he said, heading up the ramp with a wave of his arm, indicating that the others should follow. Then, turning around, he said, "Walter, if we're not back in twenty-four hours, _send help_!"

"Yes, sir," Walter replied, trying not to smile.

The general stepped through the 'gate, with six well-seasoned 'gate-traveling veterans at his heels. Little did any of them know what lay in store on their supposedly uninhabited world. . . .

It didn't take the group long to find a suitable campsite: on the bank of a clear, clean stream, with tall, leafy shade trees overhead. The two colonels set up the tents the general had asked for; the sleeping bags and everything else the men had brought were placed on the ground nearby.

"Let's spread out and see if there's anything edible in the vicinity," said O'Neill.

"You didn't check for that the last time you were here?" Rodney queried.

"We weren't in the habit of looking for food on _any_ alien world unless we were stuck there for some time and our rations started running low," the general replied.

"Yeah," said Daniel. "Even if you're famished, sometimes it's less frightening to go hungry a little while longer than it is to risk dying from eating something that could prove to be toxic."

"So, how do we test it to find out?" McKay queried.

"Haven't you ever sample-tasted alien plants for edibility, McKay?" asked O'Neill.

"Well, yes, certainly . . . when I've _had_ to. I just thought . . . maybe . . . SG-1 had a better, safer method than that."

"Nope," said Daniel. "One little taste usually has to suffice. And someone has to volunteer to be the guinea pig—just in case. The worst thing is when something _tastes_ really good, but ends up making you sick as dog if you eat it. I mean, when you taste something that's bitter or just plain disgusting, you're not really going to try to eat it, are you? It's the pleasant-tasting ones you have to watch out for."

"Since it's only going to be an overnighter, why don't we just eat whatever food General O'Neill brought for us and be done with it?" Rodney asked.

"Where's your sense of adventure, buddy?" asked Ronon, strolling toward a tree that bore some sort of oblong, purple fruit with lime-green speckles. He reached up to a branch that was just above his head and plucked one. Holding it up to his nose, he sniffed it. "Hm," he said. "It doesn't smell funny or anything. . . ." Then he used his fingernail to remove a small tidbit of the fruit, peeling off the skin before popping the pulp into his mouth. "Mm," he mumbled, nodding, "nice." He sat down cross-legged on the ground beneath the tree, letting the shade protect both him and the fruit from the sun's rays. Then he placed the fruit in his lap and waited to see whether his body would have a negative reaction to the tiny bite he had taken.

"Oh, c'mon!" said Rodney. "A tiny bite like that? It could take _hours_ to find out if—"

"In the Disney cartoon, Snow White took a bite of the witch's poisoned apple," said Sheppard as he approached the group, "but she passed out before she even _swallowed_ it. If something's really poisonous, it doesn't take much to cause a reaction, Rodney." He then looked at O'Neill. "Tent's are up, sir, and the appropriate number of sleeping bags have been stashed into each one."

"The ground here is nice and lush," said Col. Mitchell. "I think it'd be comfortable to lie on even if we _didn't_ have the sleeping bags."

"Good," said the general. "That way, if it's hot tonight, we won't need to use them." Looking at Ronon, he said, "Anything yet, Dex?"

"Nope. I feel fine." He then took a full bite, skin and all. Everyone watched and waited.

After ten minutes, General O'Neill said, "Well, boys and girls, it looks like we've got some good, fresh fruit here to eat. Dig in, if you've a mind to."

"Any idea how long we have until sunset?" Sheppard asked, plucking one of the fruits and polishing it—out of habit—on his shirt.

O'Neill shrugged. "How could I? We didn't stay long enough to find out."

Daniel looked up at the sky. "Judging from the location of the sun, if this world is anywhere near the same size as Earth, it's probably late afternoon—maybe between three-thirty and five o'clock."

Sheppard nodded and took a bite of the fruit in his hand.

"That stuff's not citrusy or anything like that, is it?" McKay asked warily.

"It doesn't taste like it, Rodney," Sheppard replied. Then he smiled. "I did bring a couple of oranges along, though, just in case we need them." He raised his eyebrows mischievously a couple of times at his colleague and Ronon sniggered again.

"Hey, John! That's not fair!" Rodney then turned to Jack. "You see? It's started already."

"Quit whining, McKay, or I'll get the oranges out of Sheppard's backpack myself," the general said.

"Yes, sir," Rodney replied dejectedly. "Ronon, could you . . . get me one of . . . those? They're too high up for me to reach. . . ."

"All the ones that were within easy reach were plucked by the rest of us," said Mitchell. "If you snooze, you lose."

Ronon got to his feet, reached up and grabbed a piece of the fruit for his teammate. "Here ya go, buddy. Enjoy."

"Thanks, Ronon," McKay said with sincere appreciation.

Once everyone had a piece of the fruit, they sat in a circle on the grass and began to converse. The first question was from General O'Neill and was aimed at Cam. "So, Mitchell, how're the wife and son?"

"Fine, sir. Thanks for asking. I've never been happier. Since Didi's from my neck of the woods, she makes sure we go home and see our folks a lot more often than I did on my own."

"Glad to hear it. Your folks and your wife . . . they're good people. You're a lucky man."

"Yeah, I am," Cam replied with a whimsical half-smile on his face.

The light was growing dim as the sun worked its way toward the horizon. Rocks were placed in a circle, firewood was gathered, and a butane lighter was used to ignite the campfire. So much for Teal'c's claim that he was going to use his zat for that purpose. . . .

The seven men spent the evening swapping stories of adventures they'd had in which none of the others present had been participants, going around the circle by turns.

Most of the stories told by the two colonels were of events that transpired before they had become 'gate travelers.

Ronon regaled the group with his exploits as a "runner" from the Wraith. The men were amazed to learn how many of the aliens he had actually dispatched on his own.

General O'Neill talked about his experiences with Thor and the Asgard—and about the time he'd been captured and tortured by Ba'al.

Daniel discussed his adventures in South America with Dr. Lee; and then told what it was like becoming an Ori Prior under the tutelage of Vala's daughter, Adria . . . the Orici.

Teal'c had many adventures with Bra'tac to share with the group, some from before he joined SG-1 and some that occurred during special missions that the two Jaffa had undertaken together for the benefit of both Earth and the Jaffa.

Only Rodney McKay was reticent to speak. "I really . . . haven't . . . done that much," he said. "I hate being left alone; and, whenever I am, I, uh, panic. Once the ordeal is over with, I prefer to just . . . forget it ever happened."

General O'Neill rolled his eyes and said, "Fine, McKay. But if something _does_ occur to you that you'd like to share, feel free to take your turn."

Rodney shook his head. "It won't."

By the time the fire began to die out—with the wrappers from ration packs being the last things to burn—everyone but Teal'c and Ronon was yawning. The duo volunteered to stand watch and to awaken Mitchell and Jackson to take their places if they found themselves starting to fall asleep.

Although the two men had begun their relationship literally fighting with each other, they had developed mutual respect for one another while battling the Wraith together during a foothold situation at the SGC. Neither said much as they picked up boulders from the lake shore, set them against a couple of trees, and sat down with their backs against the boles of the trees, their respective firearms at the ready.

The night was warm, so the men in the tents used the sleeping bags as mattresses rather than as covers, and the blankets remained in their packs.

Because Ronon and Teal'c were on guard duty, General O'Neill decided to sleep alone in one of the two-man tents. Mitchell and Jackson shared the other two-man; while Sheppard and McKay took the three-man—which neither Cam nor Daniel minded. They could understand Sheppard's desire to keep as much physical space between himself and Rodney as possible . . . and no one else was willing to share a tent with the talkative Canadian scientist.

After the other five men had been snoring for about two and a half to three hours, Ronon found himself getting drowsy, too. "Mm," he mumbled. "Guess it's time . . . yawn . . . to get Mitchell and Jackson up, huh?" He yawned again, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"If you wish to ask either Colonel Mitchell or Daniel Jackson to take your place, that is entirely up to you," said Teal'c. "I, however, am far from tired. I will stand watch a little while longer."

Although it just about killed Ronon to admit it, he knew he didn't have the Jaffa's stamina, so he got to his feet, put his hands on his hips and asked quietly, "Who would you rather have out here with you?"

"It is of no consequence. I would be equally comfortable with either Colonel Mitchell or Daniel Jackson. Whichever one is easiest to awaken and willing to come is fine with me," Teal'c replied.

"All right," said Ronon. Then he turned and headed for the tent occupied by the big man's two former SG-1 teammates.

Squatting and pushing aside the tent flap, he said, "Guys, I'm ready to call it a night. Which one of you would like to take my place and stand watch with Teal'c for a while?"

"Wha . . .?" Mitchell mumbled, raising his head slightly and looking around the interior of the tent. "Where the heck am I? I was in bed with my wife. . . ."

"'Fraid not, Mitchell. You're on a campout with General O'Neill, remember?"

"What? Oh. Oh yeah." He sighed and sat up a little, leaning back on his hands and lower arms as he shook his head in an effort to awaken enough to sit fully upright. After he succeeded in doing that, he crawled toward the tent opening and stood up once he got outside. "You gonna take my place?" he asked Ronon groggily. "Or are you gonna bunk up with Sheppard and McKay?"

"I think I'll take _your_ spot," Ronon replied. "Rodney talks to Jennifer Keller in his sleep and Sheppard tries to sing Johnny Cash songs."

"_In his sleep_?"

"Yep. Been stuck off-world with both of 'em often enough to know."

Cam shook his head. "Better you than me." He shook his head one more time and yawned. "I think I've about got the cobwebs out. . . . Sleep well."

"Thanks." Ronon crept inside the tent and curled up on the sleeping bag that Mitchell had just vacated.

The colonel found Teal'c still seated against the same tree, his eyes apparently scanning everything within his visual range. "See anything interesting, Teal'c?" he asked, taking Ronon's seat against the other tree.

"I have seen no sign of life of any kind, Colonel Mitchell," the Jaffa replied.

Mitchell smiled faintly in the darkness. "No ranks allowed, remember? Why don't you just call me 'Cameron'?"

Teal'c tipped his head in acknowledgement. "It would be an honor to do so . . . Cameron. We have known each other for a number of years now."

"Yeah, we have—long enough for me to be able to tell when something's bothering you. Spill it, T."

"I am afraid you are wrong in this case, Cameron. If there is something bothering me, then I am not aware of it."

"Maybe it's something more . . . primal—a sense of something . . . _here_ being . . . not quite . . . right."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "I had not considered that possibility. Perhaps you are correct."

"If you were a Jedi in training, I'd tell you to reach out with your feelings and see what you can detect," said Cam with a bemused expression on his face.

"I may not be a Jedi, but it is sound advice." The big man then closed his eyes and listened with every fiber of his being: all of his senses—including his "sixth sense"—were attuned to the area immediately around them.

Mitchell watched him for a few minutes and then decided to take a crack at it himself, closing his eyes to listen, reach out and . . . feel. If Didi were here, she'd tell him not to bother—that he didn't have the patience for it . . . and she'd be right. His wife knew him _so_ well. . . .

He opened his eyes again. "What the—?" Teal'c was gone. Cam jumped to his feet and scanned the area, turning this way and that, calling out the Jaffa's name quietly. There was no answer. "Oh crap!" Cam muttered. He wandered around the entire vicinity of the campground, walked to the edge of the lake, looked up into the trees . . . nothing. Not a sign of life anywhere.

Just as he was about to go to Gen. O'Neill's tent to inform his commanding officer that Teal'c had disappeared, he heard a noise behind him. Turning around, he saw the big Jaffa lying on the ground, apparently asleep. "How in the world—?" he mumbled, shaking his head. "I _know_ he wasn't there a minute ago. I would've tripped over him if he had been." He squatted next to the prone figure and shook him gently, saying, "Teal'c . . . Teal'c, buddy, are you all right?" A moment later, Col. Mitchell felt a sharp prick in the back of his neck. "Oh crap!" he managed, just before the lights went out.

The clearing was as silent as a tomb when Gen. O'Neill awakened the next morning. _Man, that was one whale of a dream! _he thought. _Leprechauns! _He chuckled. _As if!_ Then he tried to move. His brow furrowed and he said aloud, "What the—?" Raising his head, he found that he was clad in nothing but his skivvies, and his wrists and ankles were tethered to the ground with several layers of some sort of thin but extremely strong cord. "Maybe it _wasn't_ a dream," he mused, trying to remain calm.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Is anybody awake out there? I need some help!"

"So do we!" came Colonel Sheppard's voice from the tent to his left.

"What?" the general asked loudly. "What's going on with _you_ guys?"

"Well," said the colonel, "for starters, I'm stark naked and all my clothes are missing; Rodney's fully-clothed, but he's got a rash all over his body: someone stuck a wedge of orange in his mouth while he was asleep."

"_And_ I'm in dire need of a restroom!" Rodney wailed loudly.

"Go find a bush, McKay," Jack O'Neill replied, "and then get a knife and come cut me loose!"

"I wish I could, sir, but . . . our tent's been stitched shut and—"

"Just pull up the poles, then, and climb out from under it!" the general growled.

"I'm afraid the poles have been cemented into the ground," spoke up Sheppard. "We're stuck in here. And before you suggest that we use my knife to cut through the stitching . . . it's gone, sir. All of our weapons are gone."

The two men could hear the general swearing.

"Jackson," he called out, "may I assume that you're having problems, too?"

"Yeah, Jack, I guess you could say that. Ronon and I aren't any better off than the rest of you," said Daniel from the tent to the general's right. "My glasses are missing; Ronon's hair has been hacked off (which he's really quite upset about); my boots and socks are also missing, and my bare feet appear to have been spread with something noxious and extremely . . . sticky. Because they felt strange, I rubbed my feet together when I was on the verge of waking up, and they got stuck together. I can't walk, and Ronon's hands are also spread with the stuff. When he reached back to find out what happened to his hair, his hands got stuck to what was left of it."

The general groaned and then called out, "What about you, Mitchell and Teal'c? What happened while you two were on guard duty?"

A loud "mmph" came from the vicinity of the tree against which the guards had been sitting the night before. "I believe I was incapacitated by a sharp object that was coated with some kind of powerful anesthetic," said Teal'c. "The same thing appears to have happened to Colonel Mitchell. While he was unconscious, his mouth was sealed shut—possibly with the same substance used on Colonel Shepherd's feet and Ronon Dex's hands—and he has been tied to a tree."

"And what about you, T?" Jack queried. "Did they do anything to you while you were out?"

"I am unharmed, O'Neill. I am, however, bald once again; my outer clothing is missing; and my wrists and ankles have been tethered to the ground with some extremely strong cord."

"Yeah, me too," said the general, "except for the being bald part." He sighed. "Has anybody got any ideas as to how we might be able to get ourselves out of this mess?"

"I think . . . maybe I could help," volunteered Rodney, "if I can just . . . stop . . . itching . . ."

"Never mind the itching, McKay!" growled O'Neill. "Just get me out of here and I'll take care of everybody else!"

"Yes, sir," Rodney replied, saluting in spite of himself. He had already located his backpack; and, although his weapons were missing, his manicure/pedicure kit was not. "He he!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "Just what the doctor ordered!" Although it took several minutes of painstaking work with a pair of toenail scissors, he managed to cut through enough of the stitches in the tent—working from the bottom up—to allow him to crawl out. He took the manicure kit with him to the tent occupied by Gen. O'Neill.

"Good work, McKay!" the older man said. "Now cut me loose!"

"I'm trying, sir," said Rodney, on his knees with the scissors in his hand. "Man, I've never seen anything this tough before—especially when it's so . . . so _thin_!"

"After you finish cutting me loose, you can go find yourself a bush somewhere and I'll take the kit and cut Teal'c loose. Then he and I can start looking around for all our missing belongings and see if we can't find something that'll act as a solvent on that adhesive that Daniel, Ronon and Mitchell are . . . stuck . . . with."

Cutting through General O'Neill's cords proved to be even tougher than cutting the tent open had been. Eventually, however, Rodney succeeded, handed the manicure kit to Jack, and hot-footed it to the nearest shrubbery.

As the general exited his tent, his first stop was Col. Mitchell. Whoever it was that had tethered both himself and Teal'c to the ground had used the same cord on Mitchell; however, the lengths of cord were wrapped around the bole of the tree and tied behind it. "This is going to ruin my manicure," he said to Mitchell, "but I think I can untie this knot. Looks similar to a half-hitch."

Once the colonel was free, Jack opened up the manicure kit and found . . . "What the . . .? Is this a _knife_? McKay!" he called out. "There's a knife in this manicure kit!"

Rodney returned right about then and said, "Oh, yeah. I forgot. It's so tiny . . . I've never really used it."

The knife in question was part of a three-piece contraption that included a small nail file and a thin screwdriver—a few items short of those found in a Swiss army knife, but quite usable, nonetheless. General O'Neill knelt on the ground and sawed through Teal'c's bonds.

"Thank you, O'Neill."

"Now," said the general, "we just hafta find a way to un-stick Mitchell's mouth, Daniel's feet and Ronon's hands and hair. . . . And if anybody has anything Sheppard can wrap himself in, give it to him!"

Rodney, fully clothed, removed his trousers and handed them to his friend. "I guess, since almost everybody else is running around in their underwear, I can, too—till we find out what happened to the rest of our stuff, at least."

"Thanks, Rodney," said Sheppard sincerely. The scientist was a bit thicker around the middle than was the colonel, but he was in no position to quibble. He cinched the belt as tightly as he could and sighed. "I'm gonna need something to poke a whole in this belt with. It's too big!"

"Live with it for now, Sheppard. We still need to find some solvent," said the general.

"May I suggest that we try some of the citrus juice as a solvent, O'Neill?" offered Teal'c.

Jack nodded. "If whoever did this to us left the rest of the oranges in Sheppard's pack, get 'em out and let's see what happens."

The remainder of the stitching was slowly snipped from the three-man tent, and Teal'c rummaged through Sheppard's backpack. He found the remaining orange and took it to Jack. "How do you wish to proceed, O'Neill?" he queried, handing the fruit to his friend.

"Let's start with Mitchell," Jack replied, approaching the colonel, who was seated on the ground underneath the tree to which he had been tied. Using the edge of the tiny knife from the manicure kit, the general cut through the surface of the orange, peeled it, and then separated out a wedge. "Tip your head back, Colonel," he said, "and I'll squeeze some of the juice onto your mouth."

Cam did as instructed, and the surface of his lips began to separate just the tiniest bit. "Mmmm! Mmmm!" He nodded his head enthusiastically.

"More?" the general interpreted.

Cam nodded again.

General O'Neill squeezed more juice into the slight opening that the first treatment had created, and, drop by drop, Mitchell's mouth finally opened.

"Oh, thank God!" the colonel breathed.

"It's a good thing they didn't fill your mouth with the stuff," remarked the general.

"No kidding! I about ripped my lips to shreds trying to yawn when I first came to! I had to stop myself. As many things as I've been through since joining the SGC, having my lips sealed shut like that was one of the scariest!" Freed from his imprisonment, the colonel quickly went in search of a bush.

"All right, then," said Jack, approaching the tent occupied by Daniel and Ronon, "who's next?"

"Why don't you do Ronon first?" Daniel suggested. "His arms are going to sleep after being up in the air for so long. My feet'll keep."

"Is there anything left of the other orange?" McKay queried from the opening of the tent he had shared with Sheppard, "—the one the wedge came from that was stuffed into my mouth?"

"Yeah, I think there is," John replied. "It's on the ground, right next to your sleeping bag."

"Good," said the general, "because, by the time I'm through with Ronon, this one'll probably be about out of juice—literally." He squeezed what he could from the orange Teal'c had brought him and managed to loosen most of one of Ronon's hands before the juice was spent. "Throw me the other orange, McKay," he ordered.

"I—I can't; I'm allergic to citrus. I already have a rash . . . ."

"Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry. T?"

Teal'c had apparently also gone to find himself a bush, but Col. Mitchell had returned and pushed open the tent flap. "Can I be of service, sir?" he queried.

"Yeah," said the general. "Throw me that orange from over there by McKay's sleeping bag."

Cam took one giant step, reached down, grabbed the orange and tossed it gently underhand to the general. "Thanks, Mitchell."

By the time both of Ronon's hands were unstuck from his hair, most of the orange juice was expended. "I don't know how we're going to get your feet apart, Daniel," Jack said with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Well," said the archaeologist, "if worse comes to worst, I suppose Teal'c could carry me through the 'gate. Once we're back at the SGC, I'm sure Dr. Lamb can come up with something that's even more effective than orange juice."

"Where's the piece you had stuffed in your mouth, Rodney?" Sheppard asked.

"I don't know. I just . . . spit it out. Could've landed anywhere."

"What direction were you facing when you spit it out, McKay?" General O'Neill queried.

"Uh, that way," Rodney pointed, "—towards the wall of the tent."

"Got it!" said Sheppard. He held the pants up with one hand, while bending down to pick up the orange slice with the other.

General O'Neill snatched it from him quickly. "Good eyes, Sheppard." He went to work on his friend right away, being careful not to waste a single precious drop. "Dang thing's covered with dirt, and dried out from exposure to air! We're not gonna get much out of it."

"Why don't we gather up all of the orange pulp and the rinds, find a way to grind them, and see if we can't squeeze just a little more juice out of 'em?" Colonel Mitchell suggested.

"Good idea!" the general said approvingly. "Do we have some kind of a container?—anything at all?"

"Do not bother, General O'Neill," came a tiny voice out of nowhere.

"What? Who said that?" the general asked.

"I did." Jack looked down and saw a little man dressed in similar fashion to the brownies in the movie _Willow_. The tiny fellow closed his eyes, made some motions with his arms, and a moment later Dr. Jackson's feet were no longer glued together, Ronon's hair was restored, and Rodney's rash was gone.

Outside of the tent, Teal'c had just returned and said, "O'Neill, all of our supplies have appeared in a pile, a few feet from where the campfire was last night." Since the tent was already full, he remained outside, not wanting to make anyone move to allow him entry.

"Did you do that?" Jack asked the little man at his feet, "—all of it?"

The wee fellow bowed. "Indeed, I did. I am Razard," he said, "and I am what you might call the ruler or chief of my . . . people. You have a strong mind, General, as evidenced by the fact that you were able to sense our presence, even while you were sleeping an admittedly drug-induced sleep."

"I dreamt about leprechauns," said Jack.

Razard nodded. "Indeed. After scanning your mind, I understand the reference. Unlike the leprechauns of Earth lore, we do not seek for riches; we do not wear green; we have no connection to shamrocks, whatever significance they may hold; and we do not deliberately torment those who inadvertently stumble upon us."

"Could've fooled me!" said the general somewhat hotly, ignoring the reference to the scanning of his mind. He had met far too many aliens with abilities outside the norm to be thrown by a statement like that.

Razard shrugged. "We had not intended to torment you, although I can see how you could interpret it as such. What we have done here was merely a test."

"What kind of a test?" Mitchell asked.

"A test of you, as beings," said Razard in an offhand manner.

"Why?" asked Sheppard.

"You came here with weapons—to a planet that you supposedly believed to be uninhabited. We wanted only to ascertain your true natures. We drugged you so that we could delve into your minds and discover for ourselves whether you were truly men of violence, or men of peace who merely wished to be prepared to protect themselves in the event that the planet turned out to be inhabited after all." The little man smiled. "It didn't take us long to ascertain the truth."

"Then why take our clothes and do all the rest of the stuff to us that you did?" asked Rodney.

"Although we remembered the visit that General O'Neill, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c made to this world some years ago—in company with a lovely yellow-haired female—we had hidden from them that day. You had come heavily armed, General, and so we watched you. When you found nothing of interest, you left. It was a surprise, therefore, when you returned—with more men. We did not understand until we scanned your minds that you had come here merely for . . . recreation—a 'campout,' I believe is the term I read in your mind."

"Yeah. So?" Jack still wanted answers. So, obviously, did everyone else. All of their faces registered annoyance, mixed with curiosity.

"There was much lively banter between you when you first arrived. We wondered if perhaps you had come to engage in some sort of ritual combat and had chosen this world because you believed it to be uninhabited and did not wish any innocent bystanders to be injured.

"However, although there was no indication of actual animosity between any of you, we did see a certain amount of . . . discomfort from Dr. McKay. As we scanned his mind, we discovered much about him that explains the attitudes that the rest of you have toward him. His mind is very different from those of any of the rest of you, even though Dr. Jackson is equally intelligent. Their areas of interest and expertise are vastly different in most regards, and their self-perception is also very different."

"Yeah. Tell us something we _don't_ know," said Ronon.

Razard sighed. "We merely wished to understand you as a species, although we recognize that Teal'c, as a Jaffa, is different in many ways. Still, he has lived among humans for several years and is not as alien in his thoughts and behaviors as he once was."

"Still waiting," said O'Neill.

"You are a man of little patience, General!" Razard declared. "Considering what you've had to endure in recent months, however, that is not surprising. "We did the things that we did to you in order to see how you would all react—as individuals and as a group—when you wakened this morning. We were delighted to watch you work together to help one another out of your various predicaments. It was especially pleasant to observe how Dr. McKay volunteered to help you, General O'Neill, out of your bonds. The patience it took for him to cut through our cord with a tiny pair of scissors . . . he truly surprised us."

"So, you found out what you wanted to, eh?" asked the general.

"Indeed we did," said Razard with a firm nod of his head. "As Teal'c told you, your supplies and all of your missing items are outside. You are free to return home. Should you ever decide to go on another little 'off-world excursion' such as this, you are more than welcome to return. We very much enjoyed hearing the tales of your exploits and would love to hear more . . . and . . . we would actually like to sit around the campfire with you and share a few stories of our own."

"We'll keep it in mind," said Jack, thinking that, perhaps, the stories the wee folk had to tell could very well be worth listening to.

"I hope you will," said Razard. Then he blinked and vanished.

"All right, everybody. Let's get dressed, gather up our gear, fold up camp and get out of here. If I never see another movie with little people—i.e., brownies, leprechauns, etc.—it'll be too soon!"

There was a mumbled agreement, and then seven bedraggled men made their way to the Stargate and home.


End file.
